New Memories
by quillon
Summary: COMPLETE A honeymoon journey to Dol Amroth reveals more of Eowyn's past than either she or Faramir had expected.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, and that sometimes makes me sad, but I can still play with them to my heart's content....much better than Barbie and Ken.....

A/N: I hope you'll be lenient with me for certain changes that I've made with certain characters that shall reveal themselves in time. This story bit me hard when I was dealing with real life, and Faramir demanded that it get written. Who am I to argue with the Prince of Ithilien?

PS...I edited this on August 21 to add lines to make it a little easier to understand...thanks to shie1dmaidenofrohan for alerting me to this problem!! :)

* * *

Éowyn and I were at last married, and I had never been more filled with joy in my entire life. My sleepy wife gazed up at me blissfully as I dressed in warm, nondescript clothing, preparing to go out to oversee the proper loading of our packhorse. "Shall you be long, my love?" I asked her, taking in her pale beauty with my eyes once more as she yet languished in our marriage bed.

"Nay, husband," she grinned, obviously savoring the word upon her tongue as she stretched slowly and invitingly beneath the covers.

"Temptress," I muttered, bending to kiss her honeyed lips once more. "Never have I seen anyone or anything more lovely than you, my dear. I am the luckiest man in the world."

"Then I must be the luckiest woman," she smiled before she gently pushed me away, sitting up, letting the blankets slip from her bare body.

"Éowyn," I groaned, "we shall never depart the city if you continue with this wanton behavior."

"I have no argument with that!" she giggled.

I only half-feigned disappointment. "Do you not wish to view the sea then, my wife?"

"I do, I do," she scolded softly, smiling as she rose from the bed, snatching her white dressing gown from the floor and donning it quickly before putting on her slippers. When she noticed that I was staring at her, she grinned and said, "Run along. I shall be ready shortly, Faramir."

I reluctantly obeyed her dismissal, abandoning the warm halls of the steward's residence to stroll through the chill air of mid-Súlimë toward the stables where our horses were being made ready for us. There was not much for me to do as the stable master had already seen to Seregon's lading, and Windfola and Simbelmynë had been properly furnished as well. But it was only a short time until Éowyn arrived, dressed in some of my clothing, having adjusted it somehow to fit her slighter frame. At the sight of her wearing my trousers, I felt a wave of fierce possessiveness fill me, and I thought that there would be naught more pleasing than to lay her down in the straw inside one of the many stalls and remove them. Alas, my upbringing would not allow me to ravish my wife in a public stable, so I had to settle for using my imagination. It was of no import at any rate. Éowyn was now mine, and I belonged to her as well, both in body and in spirit.

"My brave shieldmaiden," I murmured, spying her blade sheathed upon the belt at her waist.

She cast her long, shining braid over her shoulder before tying closed her long, fur-lined cloak at her delicate throat, as she approached me, grinning. "My gentle, sweet, brave warrior prince," she replied, obviously having no idea about what I was thinking at the time, before she pulled me in for a kiss that left my knees weak. "How I love you, husband!" Without another word, she leapt upon Windfola's back and patiently awaited me to mount Simbelmynë.

When I was safely atop my stallion, we set upon our long journey to Dol Amroth from the White City of Gondor, looking toward our long honeymoon with great anticipation.

* * *

Riding at a slow trot, there was time enough to look over the landscape as we proceeded southward toward Pelargir. Though the trees had not yet begun to leaf for the coming spring, the edge of the distant forest upon our left was starkly lovely against the clear blue sky, made even more so by my handsome husband's continuing commentary about his newly-granted princedom of Ithilien. It was apparent that Faramir was deeply bound to the land where he had fought for so many years, fighting valiantly to spare its wild beauty from destruction by the dark forces of Mordor. Now that the shadow had been lifted from the land, my husband was enthusiastic about building our house in the heart of Ithilien at Emyn Arnen and living the rest of his days surrounded by the trees where he had always felt most at home. Happiness filled me as I listened to his speech, overjoyed that he had at last found some measure of peace after all of the horrific events that had befallen him during the War.

On the opposite side of the road lay the plains of Lebennin, which spread to the west as far as I could see. We would skirt the whole of Lebennin upon the road to Belfalas, and I was glad for my husband's presence as there was something about the frosty fields that made me uneasy. It was not fear, but instead an ominous feeling as if we were not alone here. Of course we passed several people upon the road: farmers in wagons on their way to the city to buy supplies, merchants delivering goods to Minas Tirith, soldiers moving between cities. But to me it seemed that there was something else hidden in the barrenness of the late-winter landscape, and I did my best not to draw any undue attention to myself or to my new husband.

But it seemed that our recent wedding had brought out all of Faramir's sociable qualities as he greeted every person that we passed with a broad smile and a warm hello. My husband was not an unfriendly man normally, but oft he tended toward grimness and would sometimes limit his greeting to a quick nod amongst people that he did not know. Today it seemed that he simply could not quell his overflowing happiness, nor did I wish him to, but I was significantly less warm in my manner than Faramir was.

"What ails you, my love?" he finally asked me, noticing that I was keeping nearly silent this day.

"Naught, Faramir. I am simply listening to your voice, glad that I shall be able to hear it everyday from now on."

Though he smiled at my comment, he said, "Nay, Éowyn, you are much too quiet. Perhaps we should have waited another day or two before we departed Minas Tirith?"

"Nay, my lord, I would not wait any longer to visit Dol Amroth, though I must admit that yesterday's events were exhausting!"

"Indeed! As were yesternight's," he added in a softer tone.

I blushed furiously, and he reached his fingers forth, caressing my cheek. "I cannot believe my good fortune to have captured the heart of such a beautiful, strong woman. I yet wonder if I shall wake and find myself back in the midst of the battle for Osgiliath."

I looked at him sharply, capturing his fingers in mine. "Husband, say not such things. Your time of toil at Osgiliath is passed, the shadow is removed from the land, the king is returned to Gondor, and we are wed now. This is no dream," I added, squeezing his hand tightly to emphasize my words. "Both of us began our lives anew yesterday, and now is the time to create new memories, happier memories than what came before."

"You are right, of course," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy. He leaned over in the saddle and kissed me upon the cheek. "I am glad to have the opportunity to make new, happy memories with my lovely bride."

"We have been married for only one day," I mused as I pushed a lock of his dark hair from his face, "and already I have been amazed by you more times than I can count."

He chuckled. "May your amazement never abate, my lady, for we have been married for only one day, and my happiness has easily increased tenfold simply by observing your wonder."

As we rode further upon the road in comfortable silence, my previous unease was quelled as I finally relaxed in my husband's company, taking joy in being Éowyn, Princess of Ithilien and even more important, the wife of Faramir.


	2. Chapter 2

Our third evening upon the road found us just outside the northernmost gates of the city of Pelargir about half an hour before sunset, and I explained to Éowyn that if we were to enter the old city, we would have to hide our true identities from everyone inside lest we be forced into an unwanted visit with the steward of the city, who would not allow any visiting dignitaries to avoid his hospitality for fear that he would look like a poor host otherwise. She seemed rather amused by this concept of playacting and offered to suffer being thought of as less than a daughter of kings for one night if only to be able to take a hot bath in a warm inn with her husband. Unable to argue with her logic, I agreed, and after Éowyn drew her cloak more closely about herself to hide her mannish clothing from curious eyes, we passed through the gates, keeping the horses very close together until we crossed over the canal into the Guild Quarter, where the city conditions greatly improved. Éowyn seemed nearly overwhelmed by the crush of people found within Pelargir's ancient stone walls, and she concentrated upon keeping Windfola well under control as we made our way through the filthy streets. Eventually we found a suitable inn called the Mermaid's Scales near the area where the goldsmiths and bookbinders kept their trades, and though my wife required no aid, I held Windfola as she dismounted before we gathered what we would need for the night from the pack on Seregon's back, leaving the horses in the care of a well-mannered stableboy.

As we entered the well-kept building, the man who proved to be the innkeeper, red-faced and jovial, rushed to us with a smile plastered upon his face, and I told him that my new bride and I were in need of a room for the night. He was quite nosy as many innkeepers tend to be, inquiring after my business in Pelargir. With a quick smile toward Éowyn that was just as quickly returned, I explained to him that I was a timber broker on my way to Linhir from Minas Tirith, having brought my bride along on this journey so she might learn what the business entailed and to learn her new responsibilities as the new wife of a respected merchant.

The innkeeper nodded sagely, accepting my story without any further question, obviously expecting a bit of extra coin from a wealthy merchant staying at his establishment. My lady wife and I were shown upstairs to a cozy but very clean room warmed and lit by a crackling fire, with a comfortable bed and a small window that overlooked the street. Éowyn remained silent as I ordered a hot meal to be brought to our room and a hot bath for the lady, slipping the man a gold coin. As the ever-smiling innkeeper promised our food would be delivered immediately, he departed the room, and I turned to find my wife, pale and shaking, staring through the window into the growing dimness.

"Éowyn?" I crossed the room in two strides and gently grasped her arms. She did not seem to see me at first, coming back to herself as I led her to the bed, seating her upon the edge of the mattress. "What is it? Are you well?" I asked as I knelt before her.

She nodded somewhat absently, her eyes distant. "I am just weary, husband," she murmured. Without further comment, I reached down and removed her boots before unbuckling her sword belt, removing it as well and sliding it beneath the bed.

"Lie back against the pillows, my lady," I bade her, and she complied without argument. When she appeared more comfortable, I said, "Forgive me, Éowyn. I knew that I should not have pushed so hard for us to be at Pelargir so early this day. This is to be a time of leisure for you. . . ."

"Faramir, please, do not berate yourself. It is naught that you did. I shall be fine after I rest." There was a knock at the door, and I rose and opened it, taking the tray from the waiting kitchen boy, quickly slipping him a silver before closing the door. "Will you eat, my love?"

"A little," she said, pushing herself up a bit in the bed as I set the tray upon the bedside table. There were two bowls of steaming stew and a small loaf of fresh brown bread with butter along with two tankards of thick, dark ale. I watched worriedly as Éowyn shakily lifted one of the tankards to her lips and drained it dry.

* * *

Faramir was obviously troubled by my behavior, but he remained quiet as I downed my share of the ale, before I tore a piece of bread from the loaf and chewed upon it disinterestedly. How could I tell him of my fears if I was uncertain that they were warranted?

As I had gazed through the window onto the busy street, I had caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man dressed all in black. His face was pasty against such an austere background, and for a moment, I thought that I had recognized him. All the blood had left my head, and I am certain that had Faramir not reached me when he did, I should have fallen. And now I felt ridiculous, thinking that I had seen _him_ in the street below, far from Edoras. For what purpose would he come to this place?

"Éowyn, are you certain that you are well?" Faramir's voice again brought me to myself. Setting the bread aside, I sighed.

"Would you be very wroth with me if tonight . . . if we did not . . . ?"

"Oh, Éowyn, I insist that we do not, for it is obvious that you are not faring well! What can I do for you, my dear?"

"I am certain that I shall feel much better after taking a hot bath," I said. I jumped nervously and sat up as there was another knock upon the door, but Faramir opened it again, allowing a pair of kitchen boys to carry in a good-sized metal bathtub which they set before the fireplace. They were followed by several men and women carrying buckets of water, taking several trips back and forth between our room and the kitchen before they had filled the tub about two-thirds full. As my husband closed the door behind them, I bade him to assure that it was securely locked. He looked somewhat surprised by my request, but he obeyed.

"Pelargir is the busiest and most crowded of any of the cities that we shall pass through on our way to Dol Amroth, Éowyn," he offered as he returned to my side, obviously thinking that the bustling crowds had rattled me. I nodded wearily, reaching up to unfasten my shirt. "May I?" he asked, and I smiled softly and nodded, glad for his attention.

Closing my eyes, I let the sensation of his calloused fingers brushing against my bare skin fill my mind, and had he asked, I would have allowed him to do with me as he wished that night. But he remained steadfast, simply undressing me with adoring hands and then kneading the tension from my shoulders and back with a firm but gentle touch. When I thought that I might fall asleep, he stopped his ministrations, and I opened my eyes to find him stripping to his skin as well. Without a word, but with a loving expression upon his handsome features, he lifted me in his strong arms, carrying me to the bath, and setting me upon my feet next to the tub. After checking the water to be certain that it had cooled sufficiently, he stepped in and sat down before offering me his hand so I might climb in as well, sitting and leaning back against his powerful chest, sighing in complete bliss as I let go of my old memories, letting these new ones wash over me.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This is very short I know. Consider it a transitional chapter into bigger and better things. Thanks for your kind reviews!

* * *

Éowyn seemed much improved the next morning, but she did not truly relax until we were away from Pelargir and back upon the road. Even then, I noticed her glancing over her shoulder from time to time as if looking for someone behind us. "Is there something wrong?" I finally asked her.

She seemed startled by my question. "Why do you ask?"

"As often as you cast your eyes back toward Pelargir, I thought that you might have forgotten something there."

I was relieved when she laughed. "Nay, husband, I am simply making certain that Seregon's load rests evenly across his back."

"It does, love. I checked it myself." Then I made jest. "I should have known better than to marry a Rohirric maiden. You shall always nag me about the horses' comfort when you should be seeing to mine!"

A slow smile spread across her face. "Is that so? Then when we arrive in Linhir on the morrow, would it make you happy if I curry your mane and make certain that you get your fair portion of oats and hay before I care for the horses?"

By way of an answer I whinnied most obnoxiously, earning a laugh and a light cuff upon my arm from her. We rode awhile longer in silence before Éowyn broke it with a question.

"Faramir, do you ever think that you see people from your past among the faces in a crowd?"

Her question surprised me, but I answered quietly. "Often." I wondered if this had happened to her in Pelargir. "Sometimes I think that I spy Boromir's green eyes peering at me from groups of people in the marketplace in Minas Tirith, though I know that it is impossible."

She nodded but said no more.

* * *

It was nearly dark when we stopped for the night, and Faramir began to erect our tent a few paces from the road while I set about making a fire to warm us through the dark hours. By firelight I cared for the horses while Faramir set out bread, cheese and apples that he had purchased in Pelargir for our dinner. Just as I finished currying Windfola, I felt arms slip around my waist, and before I could stop myself, I stiffened noticeably before realizing that it was Faramir who had approached so stealthily.

"Éowyn, I did not mean to frighten you," he murmured as I turned to face him.

"My husband, the ranger," I said in wry amusement, though my heart was pounding in my chest. "You must teach me how to do that so we shall be on more even footing in the future."

His face lit up. "I would feel honored to show you the ways of the rangers, my wife. Come, let us eat now, and we can begin your training as a ranger whenever you would like."

I was able to relax for a time as I sat upon the cold ground next to Faramir, allowing him to feed me tidbits of food, delighting in the way his grey eyes looked at me as he kissed the apple juice from my mouth between morsels. I leaned against him, taking comfort in the warmth of his touch, feeling the slight tremor that ran through his body as he anticipated the moment when we would retire to our bedroll. I could not help but smile at him to know that I had that effect upon him. "I adore you, Faramir," I told him, though the words seemed inadequate, and he sighed in deep contentment, pulling me yet closer.

"Your voice when you speak those words never fails to make my heart skip a beat, Éowyn," he admitted breathlessly.

"Your response to me shall never fail to amaze me, my lord," I said as he began to trail light kisses upon my throat.

"Ah, but you are beautiful and most desirable, my love. I think of no other day or night. You utterly consume me."

"Faramir."

"Yes?"

"I am cold," I lied, feeling anything but cold. He paused in his attentions only long enough to chuckle throatily and draw me into his arms before he carried me into the tent, the remains of our dinner completely forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

As we crossed the bridge over the River Gilrain and passed through the Lebennin Gate into the town of Linhir, I glanced to my wife, who looked absolutely lovely upon Windfola, her plaited golden hair resting in its usual thick rope down the middle of her back. The town was busier than I would have expected, most likely filled with farmers from the surrounding countryside, buying seed for crops and replenishing their dwindling supplies after the long winter. But it did not take long to find a suitable room at a respectable inn near Wanderers' Square, and we remained incognito, Faramir, the merchant and Éowyn, his bride.

We opted to eat dinner in the common room that evening, and I greatly enjoyed the roasted chicken and potatoes that we received, being some of the best food that I had eaten in a great while. I complimented the mistress of the kitchen most thoroughly when she happened to pass through the dining area, and she bowed respectfully to me. When my wife and I had finished our meal, I urged Éowyn to return to our room as I had a small errand that I needed to complete before I could join her there. She readily agreed though she seemed curious, and I simply smiled and kissed her soundly upon the cheek before I departed the inn.

Years ago when I had been a lad of about twelve, I had spent a night in Linhir with my Uncle Imrahil, and he had taken me to a tiny shop on the west side of the Outer Market that sold the tastiest confections in all of Gondor. But on the way there this evening, I took at least one wrong turn because I soon was horribly lost and embarrassed by my poor memory of the town's layout. I glanced behind me, deciding that perhaps it might be best if I turned back to regain my bearings as suddenly I found myself upon a deserted street. I spotted a man with dark hair and dark clothing standing at the place where I had entered the street. I walked toward him, hoping to get some directions from him, but he turned and walked away before I could say aught to him.

There were a few other wrong turns that I took, and soon I was concerned that I might be the target of a thief since every time I turned back, I found the same man staring at me. Somewhat angered by his silent appraisal of me, I managed to circle around behind him at one point, and using all of my skill, I approached him stealthily before I said to him in a deadly tone. "Are you following me?"

He started violently, but when he whirled to face me, he had an odd smile plastered upon his face. His pallid visage was almost frightening to gaze upon, as were his icy blue eyes, but my gaze did not falter as I awaited his reply. "Truthfully, I am, good sir, but I fear that I am lost, and I was only hoping to find someone to follow out of this maze of streets."

I relaxed to find that this man was just as lost as I was, and I apologized for my rudeness before admitting that I was also lost. Together we walked until we managed to find the main road again, and he went his way, bidding me farewell, and I went my own. At last, I was able to find the confectionery yet open for business, the woman inside the same one who had waited on me all of those years ago, though we both had more grey in our hair now. She smiled as I told her that I had come here especially to purchase something for my new bride, and she showed me the sweetmeats that she recommended. Without hesitation, I bought a dozen of them, tiny chocolates with tidbits of dried fruit embedded within them, and I then departed the shop, eager to return to Éowyn's side with my gift for her, careful not to become lost once more.

When I reached our room and showed my wife what I had bought, she kissed me until I could not stand under my own power any longer, and I sank down onto the mattress, delighted that she appreciated my gift to her. She explained that she had never eaten chocolate, but she had always wished to try it, though she knew that she could not until after she had been married, having heard that the effects of chocolate greatly increased the pleasure found in bed-sport. I laughed, eager for her to taste them, but she lifted one from the box and instead brought it to my lips with a soft smile, saying, "If anyone deserves more pleasure, Faramir, it is you."

"My love, I do not know if I could stand more pleasure, but I shall try mightily." It was the most delicious thing that I had ever tasted next to Éowyn herself. As she sat next to me, I fed her a sweet from my fingers, and I began to tell her the tale of the strange man that I had encountered in the street. Instead of amusing her, as I had intended, the story caused her to grow pensive, and I noticed that the color had once again left her face.

"Describe him to me, Faramir," she told me, her tone flat and low, her eyes hard.

"Éowyn," I laughed, "he is no one. . . ."

"Describe him to me!" she commanded, using a tone with me that I had never heard from her before. Somewhat taken aback by her vehemence, I told her all that I could remember of the man, his dress, and his demeanor. "Faramir," she said, her voice edged with desperation, when I had finished speaking, "we must leave this place immediately."

"Why? Whom do you think this man is?"

She looked away from me and remained quiet for a moment. When she spoke at last, her voice was tremulous. "He is someone from my past, a slithering, evil monster, who brings only despair to all that he touches. Would that you had never spoken with him, my lord."

"Éowyn, there are many people in the world who might fit that description. . . ."

"Faramir, I saw him in Pelargir, from the window at the inn, though I did not wish to believe that I had."

Now I understood the reason for all of her strange behavior since we had arrived in the port city. "But who is he?" I asked.

She took a steadying breath before she spoke. "He is Grima Wormtongue, a longtime advisor to my Uncle Théoden, the one who, with the help of Saruman, placed the King of the Mark into thralldom before my very eyes. Théodred, Éomer and I were powerless to stop him, and when he at last had my brother banished from Meduseld after Théodred was killed in battle. . . ." Never before had I seen fear in Éowyn, but I witnessed it now, and I was rendered speechless by it. "He is an evil snake, and I would be far from him, husband, as far as we can go. The sooner that we are surrounded by your uncle's Swan Knights, the better." I touched her arm and found her trembling.

"Éowyn, perhaps you were mistaken." I had naught else to offer her as I was still uncertain about with whom we were dealing.

"I was not." Her tone had a chilling finality in it.

"You wish to depart tonight?" I asked, setting the forgotten sweets aside, rising from the bed.

"I do."

"Then rest here, Éowyn. I shall go see to our preparations and fetch you when all is in readiness."

"Thank you, my lord," she murmured.

"No thanks are necessary, my love. I would walk through fire if you asked it of me."

* * *

Faramir was not gone very long from the room, but I worried anyway while he was apart from me, though I knew that he was quite capable of defending himself against any physical attack under normal circumstances. I could not rest as he had suggested, so instead, I collected our few belongings together, readying myself to depart Linhir as soon as possible. When my husband returned, he gathered me soundlessly against his chest with his strong arms around me and hugged me for a long time, and I slipped my arms about him as well, drawing strength from his presence.

"How much farther is it to Dol Amroth, Faramir?" I asked, resting my cheek upon his shoulder.

"At least five days ride, though it would not surprise me if we should encounter some snow in the higher hills of Dor-en-Ernil, which might lengthen our journey somewhat."

I nodded and pulled away. "Then we had better go now, Faramir. Perhaps if we slip away in the night, he shall not know that we are gone until we are far away."

"Would it not be better to find him and face him, Éowyn? If he is as evil as you say, perhaps we could have him arrested."

"Nay, husband. He can snare a person's mind with a mere word. I would not have that happen to you, my lord."

He nodded grimly. "Then let us away."

Despite the lateness of the hour, the road was easy to navigate as it was bathed in bright moonlight. The landscape was becoming more hilly, and Faramir explained that we would soon be in the foothills of the Unnamed Mountains that lay to the east of Dol Amroth. It was two and a half days to the town of Ethring upon the River Ringló where we would leave the North-South Road, heading west through the Ringló Vale, the only route that was guaranteed to be passable this time of the year.

We had only been upon the road for a few hours, and it was not yet midnight when a chill went down my spine. The clouds had increased quickly, completely covering the moon, and the scent of rain was in the air. Faramir suggested that we stop to wait out the rain in our tent. Truly, there was no reason to continue, risking our health by riding in a storm, so I yielded to his proposal.

Luckily there were quite a few trees close to the road, and therefore plenty of wood for a fire, so I built a small one mostly for light, and as the wind increased, Faramir did his best to erect the tent before the rain began. Knowing that it was always possible for the rain to linger for days, I stowed some extra firewood in the pack upon Seregon's back, thinking that it might be difficult to find any dry wood in the coming days.

The tent was up just in time, and we entered it just as the heavens let loose, and the fire was quickly extinguished, leaving us in the cold darkness, occasionally illuminated by a flash of lightning. Faramir spread out our bedroll and bade me to lie down. "I shall keep watch over you, my love," he said softly, and I kissed him soundly before I lay down. Knowing that I was safe in Faramir's care, I fell asleep almost immediately.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks for the kind reviews! They all mean a lot to me!

* * *

It was a long night as it rained unceasingly until dawn. The temperature had plummeted, and it crossed my mind that it truly might snow before we reached Ethring as I pulled my heavy cloak tighter around my shoulders. I was glad, however, that Éowyn had found some comfort and rested well as I sat beside her, keeping myself alert as I had during all of the long watches I had kept when I lived in Henneth Annûn, by thinking songs in my head, silently keeping the beat with my feet. Silly, I know, but it works.

When the dawn at last made its appearance, I shook Éowyn awake, silently offering her an apple to break her fast. She took it as she sat up, searching my eyes. "We shall continue on after you have finished eating, my love," I told her. Then I answered her unspoken question. "There was no sign of anyone last night which is expected since the weather was not very conducive to travel."

"Nay, I suppose not."

I emerged into the chill, damp air, the rain having left-off shortly before dawn. I moved to the horses, checking their feet for embedded stones while I awaited Éowyn. She emerged quite soon with our bedroll under her arm, and I collapsed and packed away the wet tent as quickly as I could, noticing that Éowyn was keeping a close watch upon the road. When all was secure, we mounted and continued on toward the River Ringló.

The farther north that we went, the colder and windier it became and the fewer people we met upon the road. By the time we thought to stop to make camp beside the road that evening, there was a fine, powdery snow falling from the sky, and we were both miserable with cold. "Can you go further, Éowyn?" I asked her, noting her rosy cheeks.

"Aye, husband, if you can."

"I am well enough," I told her, though I was dozing in the saddle between bouts of shivering. We continued northward toward Ethring, and the weather steadily deteriorated, the snowfall increasing as did the wind. Soon, unable to see aught but blowing snow, I gave Simbelmynë his head, hoping that my stallion might be able to lead us to safety through the blizzard. Windfola followed of his own volition. It was not long before Éowyn complained that her feet were going numb. I dared not stop, so instead, I moved from Simbelmynë's back to Windfola's behind Éowyn, wrapping myself around her, hoping to keep the brunt of the wind away from her.

"How much farther do you think it is?" she asked, her words nearly blown away by the howling wind.

"I cannot say, for the horses' pace is much slower than it might have been had we not encountered this storm. But certainly we should arrive in Ethring by daylight, love."

"How fare you, Faramir?"

"I am well enough." I know that she was faring better than I was in truth, since she had slept for a while, and she was used to the harsh winters upon the plains of Rohan, whereas I was almost always hidden in a sheltered spot within the trees during the coldest months in Gondor. And rarely did it snow in Ithilien. But it was my responsibility to protect my wife, and so I did my best. It was not until I caught myself dozing again that I began to worry about myself. But then, as if she knew of my difficulty, my wife reached back, cupping my frozen face with her hand from which she had removed her glove. The relative warmth of her fingers was almost painful upon my cheek.

"You must not rest now, husband. Stay awake until we reach Ethring, and I promise that I shall see that you are well-tended when we arrive. Can you stay alert, my love?"

"I can but try, Éowyn."

"There was a time when Éomer and I were lost in a great snow when we were but children. It was horribly cold then as well, and so to stay awake, we sang. I would hear you sing to me, Faramir."

It was not how I would have wished to serenade my bride, but it was a sound idea, and so I sang to her the Song of Gondor and the Song of Lebennin both, repeating them one after the other, unable to think of any other songs with my cold-fuddled brain. And then my dear wife joined me in song as well. I paused once between songs to speak the words that I needed to say to her.

"I love you, Éowyn."

* * *

It was not yet dawn when Windfola came to a standstill. I prayed that he had not given up to the cold. Assuring Faramir that I would be fine, I dismounted and, keeping hold of the reins, I trudged forward, leading my stallion, discovering that he had brought us to a wooden gate that was barred from inside.

"Hello!" I cried as I pounded upon the gate. "We need help here!" I prayed that someone had heard me as I turned back toward Faramir, finding him slumped over my stallion's withers, exhaustion and cold finally taking him. Turning back to the gate, I continued to shout and pound upon the wood until at last I heard a sound from within, followed by the opening of the gate.

A stout watchman allowed us inside along with our three horses, though he scolded me for being out in such foul weather. I had no time nor the inclination to endure his pointless rebukes as I interrupted him to ask if there was an inn nearby. He pointed the way, continuing his endless grumbling, and I led the horses toward the inn, hoping that there would be room inside for me and my husband.

But the door of the inn was locked, and I saw no light coming from inside. The horses required shelter as well, so I led them into the dimly-lit stable next door finding three empty stalls for them, grateful that the straw within was clean, dry, and deep. There was no time to tend the horses properly, so I quickly removed Simbelmynë's furniture, hanging it upon the stall door, and Seregon's pack, allowing it to fall into the straw.

Faramir was a different matter altogether. He stirred when I spoke his name, but before he became fully alert, he slipped from the saddle, landing heavily in the straw. "Éowyn?" he asked muzzily.

"Sleep, my love, I shall be along shortly." He needed no other encouragement as he sank into deep rest, turning onto his side and curling up beneath his snow-caked cloak in the bedding. When Windfola was free of his tack, I knelt down in the straw next to my husband, brushing the snow from his clothing and hair as best as I could before I lay down and wrapped my arms around him, intent on warming us both. As an afterthought, I spoke a soft command to my stallion, and Windfola knelt in the bedding on the other side of Faramir. The coziness of the stall induced a strong urge to sleep in me as well, and I surrendered to it.

"Hey, now! What are you doing there?!" The stableman's voice woke me immediately, and I sat up quickly, bidding him to be quiet as Faramir stirred beside me.

"We were sleeping until you came along, sir." I spoke further before he could say anything else. "Fear not, we shall pay for the straw we mashed and the three stalls for our horses, I assure you. Now, if it is not too much trouble, could you fetch us something hot to fill our bellies?"

The man looked a bit surprised to be given orders by a disheveled woman dressed in man's clothing, sleeping in a stable beside a semiconscious man who was curled next to a large grey warhorse, but he nodded and departed quickly.

"Who was that?" questioned Faramir, his sleepy grey eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I am not completely certain, my husband. How fare you?"

"Much better, Éowyn." He sat up, looking about. I thought that he might mention something about finding himself bedded down in a stable, but instead he asked, "We are in Ethring, I assume?"

"I had not thought to ask in truth, though I also assume that we are." I caressed his stubbled cheek, noting the lines of exhaustion around his eyes. It could not have been much before dawn when we had arrived, so he could not have gotten more than a couple hours of sleep. "When that man returns with our breakfast, I shall see about acquiring a proper room for us with a roaring fire where you might take your ease for the day, Faramir. I am certain that the weather is much too foul for us to continue on to Dol Amroth today anyway." Rising, I commanded Windfola to rise as well, and after finding a brush, I began to smooth his coat, praising him for bringing us to safety and warming his master afterward.

When the stableman returned with two steaming bowls of porridge swimming with lots of honey and butter on top, Faramir rose and thanked him, handing the man a gold coin for his trouble as he took the bowls from the man.

"Sir," I said, "might there be any rooms available at the inn?"

"Yes," he answered, flummoxed by the two people before him. "I own the inn."

"Ah, good, the proprietor. Are your rooms clean, sir?"

He nodded, glancing down again at the coin in his hand. "My wife works hard to keep everything spotless," he assured us.

"Then we would like a room for all of today and tonight with a large, comfortable bed and a roaring fire. My lord husband requires absolute quiet so that he might rest until we can proceed on our journey. Is that possible?"

"Yes, my lady, I shall prepare your room myself." He bowed quickly, though I know he had no idea of whom we were and nearly ran from the stable to see to our room.

"I could grow quite accustomed to this treatment, my lady," said Faramir, stirring his porridge a bit before he carefully ate a spoonful of the steaming mixture.

"I hope that you shall, my lord. It is a wife's duty to see her husband treated well after all."

"Is it only duty that motivates you, Éowyn?" he asked me teasingly.

I whispered without actually looking at him, as I, too, began to eat my porridge, "Wait until we are behind closed doors, my husband. I shall perform duties for you that you never even imagined."

I laughed as the spoon actually fell from his hand as his imagination ran away with him. I was so glad to see him well, if not a little preoccupied.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Only four chapters left! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this story!

* * *

Éowyn had seemed to forget about this Wormtongue that she had been so worried about as we removed ourselves through the yet blowing snow to our room inside the inn. The fire was warm indeed, and I found myself growing drowsier by the moment as my wife helped me to undress and then into bed. I nearly begged for her to join me, but she declined, citing that the horses remained unbrushed, the tack unpolished. So I slept alone, glad for the rest, though I missed my wife's presence.

When I awakened sometime later, I was heartened to see through the window that the snow had finally ended, and it seemed that the sun might even make an appearance before sunset. I looked toward my wife who was sitting in a chair near the fireplace, waiting patiently for me to rise. I greeted her softly, bewitched by the look in her eyes, and she came to me, leaning down and kissing my mouth gently.

"Am I dreaming?" I asked her softly.

"Nay, husband, this is real." She kissed me again for good measure, running her fingers through my hair. Though I was famished, I wanted Éowyn more, and as I unpinned her hair, pulling her into bed with me, she began to demonstrate the duties of which she had spoken earlier.

Sometime later, though I was willing to rise to sit by the fire and eat my dinner in a civilized manner, she would not allow me up, insisting on feeding me from her own hand, much as I had done for her three nights ago. As she placed morsels of chicken and cheese within my mouth, I asked her what she had done with herself all day.

"I spent most of the day caring for the horses and their furniture. I unfolded the tent, spreading it on the floor in the stable, hoping that it might have a chance to dry somewhat before we need it again. I had the innkeeper's wife wash some of our clothing, and then I purchased some food for the last leg of our journey. After all of that, I came back inside, ordered some food to bring up to you, and then I sat and watched you sleep, memorizing everything about your face as I did."

I blushed, somewhat abashed to know that she paid such attention to me while I was unaware of it. "Did you like what you saw, Éowyn?"

"Indeed, I did, my lord," she murmured, smiling broadly. With her index finger she traced the length of my face, starting at my hairline, proceeding between my eyes, down the length of my nose, over my lips, my chin, ending at the base of my throat, and I found my breath catching beneath her touch as she sought my pulse with her fingertips, my lifeblood flowing under her hand. "Are you well-rested, Faramir?" she asked me, not bothering awaiting my answer as her lips sought mine again, her hands roving sensuously over my skin. It was not long until she had coaxed both my body and my mind again to the heights of passion.

Afterwards, I held her as she slept soundly against me, and I anticipated our arrival in Dol Amroth, eager for my wife to view the sea at last.

* * *

After we rose the next morning and ate a large breakfast, we saddled our mounts and repacked our tent, deciding that the snow was not deep enough nor even drifted across the road enough to keep us from our journey any longer. Faramir paid the innkeeper well, and then we departed Ethring, following the road that wound beside the River Ringló, knowing the next city that we would see was Dol Amroth itself.

I was eager for us to be on our way, anyhow, wondering if Grima might be on his way to Ethring, and since we had dallied for an entire day due to the snow, I was worried that he might catch up to us. When we had been on the road for a couple of hours, I noticed that Faramir was glancing over to me quite often, a look of concern upon his features. "What is it, husband?" I finally asked him.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing, Éowyn. You are yet worried about that man?" I nodded. "Is there something else that you have not mentioned about him? I would not ask but for the fear in your eyes when you speak of him."

I averted my eyes, unused to being read so easily even by Faramir. I was uncertain if I should speak the whole truth of Grima Wormtongue, wondering what my husband's reaction would be if he knew how often the worm had watched me when I thought I was alone, how often he had touched me without my permission. I wondered what Faramir might do if he knew that had Lord Aragorn not arrived in Edoras when he did, that evil man would have had his way with me and none of my training as a shieldmaiden would have made a whit of difference against him. It worried me that Faramir might decide to kill Wormtongue to avenge my bruised honor, but it worried me almost as much that he might not.

"His evil is boundless," was all I could offer to my husband, saddened that I did not yet know my husband's mind as well as he knew mine.

"Éowyn, the Witch-King's evil was boundless, and you faced him down and slew him. This Grima is just a man. Will you not confide in me your fears, love?"

My heart was torn by his words, but I could not tell him yet. My lips would not form the words. "I cannot, Faramir," I said, and his face fell, wounding me further as I saw the hurt that I inflicted upon him by what must have seemed as obvious mistrust of him. But he yet surprised me again. He carefully schooled his features into a mask of calm acceptance.

"I am always ready to listen to aught that you wish to say to me, Éowyn, and there is nothing that you could say that could make me love you less, if that is your worry. Though I cannot force you to tell me your troubles, I am a very patient man, and I shall wait for you to feel comfortable speaking upon this subject, my love. Never fear me, please."

His words touched me deeply, and I hoped desperately that soon I might find a way to tell him of my past as I nodded and then retreated into my thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

We stopped early that day as Seregon had developed a slight limp, and though Éowyn was obviously unhappy with the situation, she thought it best that we rest him after she pulled a small stone from his foot. After finding a suitably high spot without much snow upon it, I raised the tent close to the riverbank as my wife checked all of the horse's feet for rocks. Since we had extra time today, I thought it might be nice for us to have rabbit stew for our dinner, having caught sight of many rabbit tracks along the bank of the Ringló. After moving our pack into the tent, I pulled my new short bow that had been a wedding gift to me from Prince Legolas and my old quiver from it, and I made ready to hunt, very eager to try an Elven bow. I thought at first that Éowyn might forbid me from leaving her side even for a short while, but she seemed content to tend to Seregon, and so I departed, assuring her that I would not go far.

The Elven bow felt very light and natural in my hands, something that I did not usually experience until I had drawn a Man-made bow dozens of times. In awe of the beautiful craftsmanship of the Elven bowyer who had created this work of art, I stepped lightly along the riverbank, using the sound of the water to cover any sound my boots might have made in the rather deep snow.

It was quite cold again today, and my breath formed clouds around me, the crisp feel of yet more coming snow growing in the afternoon air. If we were to eat well this evening, I would have to be quick. So I immersed myself in tracking my prey, shutting all other distractions from my mind. At last I spotted a coney hiding in a stand of tall grass. With the sureness of something that I had done thousands of times, I automatically slowed my breathing as I raised my bow, took a deep breath, releasing it halfway and then holding my breath as I aimed. When I was certain that my arrow would hit the animal's fluttering heart, I loosed, killing it instantly, mercifully. Silently I gave thanks to Eru for providing this rabbit for my table.

Deciding that one coney should be sufficient for just the two of us, I moved forward to retrieve my kill, eager to return to Éowyn before she grew worried. It was then that I felt the odd sensation of another's presence behind me. I started to turn, thinking that Éowyn had joined me, but there was a sudden movement, and then I was hit in the side of my head with something heavy and cold, the shock of it paralyzing my body and stealing my breath from me as I was shoved into the icy waters of the River Ringló.

* * *

I heard a loud splash as I was tending the horses, but it took a minute for it to occur to me that anything might be amiss. "Faramir?" I called, hoping that he would not be too wroth if I frightened his quarry away with my voice. But he did not answer, and as I stood silently, listening for any sign of him, I saw something that made my blood run as cold as the snow that covered the surrounding countryside.

My husband, obviously in distress, was floating face-up in the wide river, his arms and legs flung wide. His limp body was being dragged downstream by the swift current, and I wailed his name, afraid that he was dead. I dared not jump in to swim after him, though he was not very far from the bank, knowing that the frigid water would steal my strength from me before I could bring him halfway back to shore. Quickly I mounted Windfola, as he was still saddled. I was eager to keep Faramir within sight as I allowed my horse to choose his own path as he kept pace with my husband, continuing to call out to him, hoping beyond hope that he might answer me and be able to free himself from his predicament.

Because of the thick vegetation within the vale, the road veered away from the river, and I was forced to change course, temporarily losing sight of Faramir as I urged Windfola to gallop upon the frozen mud of the road. I absolutely refused to surrender my husband to the river. As the stallion reached the bottom of the hill, I could see the river clearly again, and it took me only a moment to realize that I had passed Faramir, but he was quickly approaching the place where the road rejoined the river. I saw now that he was fumbling weakly in the water, as his heavy cloak was near to pulling his head beneath the surface, and his clumsy flailing was doing little good in bringing him closer to the bank. There was only a second to make my decision, and then without further thought, I urged Windfola into the river. My mount did not shy from the freezing water as I maneuvered him into position to block my husband's further descent into the River Ringló.

"Faramir!" I cried in fear as soon as his body bumped into my mount's side. He was deathly pale, no longer struggling, and obviously wounded in some manner since I was certain that he could not have succumbed this quickly to the cold water. Using my dagger, I sliced through the tie that held his heavy cloak fast against his throat, taking care not to cut him as well. As the fur-lined cloth fell away from him, I wound my fingers into his sodden clothing, and using all of my strength, I hauled him with much difficulty over the pommel of the saddle, holding tightly to him as I turned Windfola for the shore, digging my heels into his sides. Faramir moaned quietly, growing more uncomfortable now as his wet clothing was rapidly freezing in the cold air.

As my stallion climbed from the river with some difficulty, my husband almost slipped from my grasp, but somehow I kept hold of him. When I was certain that he would not fall from the saddle, I urged Windfola to run as he had never run before. I knew that Faramir must be very uncomfortable draped across my mount's withers, the pommel of the saddle digging into his ribs with every jarring stride, but I knew that he needed warmth immediately. In what seemed an eternity, but was certainly only a couple of minutes, we reached the campsite, and I commanded Windfola to kneel upon the ground near the tent. With the last of my strength, I dragged my husband into our tent and covered him with my mostly dry cloak, grateful that he was at least out of the bone-chilling wind.

It was lucky that we yet carried some dry firewood within our pack, and with hands shaking as much from cold as from fear, I immediately set about building a fire as close to the tent opening as I dared to warm my husband, speaking to him the entire time, praying that he might answer me. He lay unmoving now, unresponsive to my voice, his skin freezing cold, his hair and clothing frozen, and my heart thundered in my chest as I was uncertain if he would live.

The fire felt wonderful in the frigid air as I reentered the tent, kneeling next to Faramir, finding his heartbeat pulsing slowly but steadily at the base of his throat, and I immediately began to remove his stiff clothing one piece at a time, using my dagger when necessary. Luckily, I found no evidence of frostbite on his fingers or toes as I removed his gloves, boots and stockings. As I worked, the fire began to do its work, and he began to shiver violently, his teeth chattering audibly over the crackling of the flames. When he lay bare upon the ground, I quickly unfurled our bedroll next to him and rolled him onto his stomach atop it, intending to dress him in dry clothing before I covered him with blankets. I gasped when I noticed the wound upon his head, a lump the size of an egg just behind his right ear that was bleeding, the flow increasing as Faramir became warmer. I quickly found a spare shirt and pressed it against the lump, praying that he would awaken soon.


	8. Chapter 8

The pain grew with each passing minute, leaving me breathless even as I realized that I was no longer in the river. There was a steady, firm pressure upon my head, and I wished that it would stop because the feeling was agonizing. But as my other senses slowly returned, I knew that Éowyn had found me, and it was she who was trying to keep me alive.

There was a moment when the pressure ceased for a moment as I felt a blanket being spread over me, and then my lady wife lay beside me, speaking softly to me. I realized that I was unclothed and that she was as naked as I was, and I wondered if I was simply lying in bed, lost somewhere between waking and nightmare. But, no, the pain was much too realistic, and I realized, as my brain began to comprehend language once again, that she was trying to impart some of her warmth to me as she pressed her bare skin against mine, pulling me as close as she could to herself.

"Faramir?" she questioned, fear plain in her voice, in the darkness beneath the blanket, and I groaned against her. "Rest, my husband. I am here now, and you are safe," she murmured against my hand that she had lifted to her mouth. There was nothing but pain as her breath brought tingling, burning feeling to my nerveless fingers.

"'Wyn, 't hurts," I managed to say, wondering why my tongue felt too large for my mouth.

"I know, my love, but I must warm you. Stay close to me, and all shall be well soon." She bade me to roll over to face the fire, and when my muddled brain finally processed her words, I did my best to obey her. Éowyn was at my back now, where the worst of the pain was, and she pressed the length of her body against me, one of her arms wrapped tightly about me, the other one stretched out beneath my neck. She nuzzled the nape of my neck and kissed me once there. She felt wonderful, and I felt myself relaxing into sleep. It was strange, but I knew that there was something about which I needed to warn her, but I could not remember what it was. I realized that she was begging me to speak to her, so I tried, though most of what spilled from my mouth sounded like gibberish, even to my own ears.

"Stay with me, lord husband. Tell me what happened to you."

But I could not remember what had happened, though I had a terrible feeling of danger deep within me, and that lent me some strength. "Not safe here," I told her, and then I groaned audibly as my wife rose, taking her warmth with her.

"Rest, my love," she said softly, but it was difficult. My body was much too cold to relax very much.

* * *

I had been torn between caring for my husband and seeking out the cause of his brush with death. Certainly even a ranger as surefooted as he could have slipped upon a patch of snow and fallen into the river, hitting his head in the process, but his words alerted me to the fact that this had not been an accident. Now that I knew he would live, I left him shivering under the blanket, rising and redressing quickly and strapping on my sword. I had given thanks to the Valar that my husband was mostly unharmed, the ugly lump upon his head being the only wound. But I knew that he would not remain unharmed if I did not keep a proper watch over us both, for I knew that Wormtongue was very near, and I would not be taken unaware by him again.

Stepping from the tent, I looked around the campsite, noting that the horses seemed very skittish as I approached them. Windfola nickered quietly as I calmly began to brush his coat, speaking quietly to him, careful to keep the tent where my husband lay in my sight.

But Grima did not behave as I would have expected. Instead of approaching the tent, trying to finish what he had begun with Faramir, he stepped from the trees and walked straight to me, looking misplaced in the light of day. Windfola shied away from him, and I could not hold him, even as my own heart was pounding wildly in my chest.

"Lady Éowyn," said Grima, his face oddly blank, and his low voice chilled me to the bone.

"Why have you come here, worm?" I asked with a boldness that I did not feel.

"Surely you know that I have come for you, my lovely."

He took another step toward me, and I took a step backward. "I shall not go with you. I belong to another."

"Yes, I was most disappointed to learn of your wedding, though it was a beautiful ceremony. And though you and Lord Faramir appear to be quite happy together, it does not make me happy, Éowyn. You were meant for me, and I intend to have you."

I tried to hide my shock and revulsion as I wondered how he had gained entry to our wedding ceremony. "So, it was you who hit Faramir in the head?" I asked, anger beginning to overcome my fear as I already knew the answer.

"Yes, though I must admit I had not expected you to be so quick to action. Your brave rescue of him was most disappointing for me."

"You are an evil man, Grima," I snarled.

He placed his hand over where I supposed his heart must be and smiled slightly. "You wound me, Éowyn. I am not evil, just misunderstood. I love you, Éowyn." His words made my skin crawl as he continued. "I have always loved you, from the moment that I first laid eyes on you. But there were so many obstacles between us, your uncle, your cousin . . . your brother. I worked so hard to bring us together. But you were afraid, as all young untried virgins are. You knew naught of what to expect from me, I know." He reached his hand toward me, and I found myself powerless to move away from him as his cold fingers stroked my cheek. "You are as beautiful as ever," he whispered. I felt like retching, but I could not make myself move away from him.

He continued speaking, standing so close to me now that I could feel his fetid breath upon my face as he spoke. "I am not even angry that you gave your maidenhead to Lord Faramir. It is well that you allowed him to give you that pain, so that I can give you naught but pleasure. You are now experienced in the ways of love and have no reason to be afraid of me any longer." He cupped my face with his hand and leaned down, fully intending to kiss me.

My husband's voice was strong and steady when he spoke from behind the worm. "What do you think you are doing?!"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks everyone for all of your reviews!

* * *

I had said it myself. It was not safe here. And yet Éowyn had risen from my side and had gone somewhere alone, leaving me in the tent. Though my mind was yet benumbed with cold, I knew that something was very wrong. Moving slowly, I lifted myself from our bedroll, and my shaky fingers fumbled with the sodden clothes that I found piled nearby. I could feel a warm wetness seeping down my neck, and momentarily dizzy, I thought to lie back down and rest as my wife had bid me. But when I heard voices outside and realized that she was not alone, I quickly dressed in what clothing I could readily find, and buckled on my sword belt before I exited the tent, stepping past the fire and into the frigid air.

A man with long dark hair, dressed in a long, black cloak, had his back to me, and he was slowly advancing on my wife as he spoke, and I wondered why she did not back away from him. But as I moved toward them, I listened to his words, and I realized that this man, this Grima Wormtongue, had been stalking her for years. And the words, the unrepeatable filth that was flowing from his mouth as he spoke to my Éowyn, made me realize why she had not wished to tell me the whole story of this man's role in her life. I could no longer hold my tongue.

"What do you think you are doing?!" I growled, and Wormtongue started and then froze in place.

"Lord Steward, I am surprised by your resilience," he spoke. "I had not thought that you would be strong enough to rise so soon after your accident. I regret that you were not killed outright, but I had not thought that your wife would prove so heroic." His words dripped venom, and I wondered at Éowyn's stillness, my heart filled with dread.

"What have you done to her?" I asked, and he turned toward me, keeping her behind him, keeping a hand clamped around her forearm. His pale gaze was powerful, and I suddenly felt lightheaded under his scrutiny. I drew my sword. "Let her go," I said, fully intending to kill him when I was certain that Éowyn was safely away from him.

"Lord Steward, I hold no weapon in my hand. It would be most dishonorable for you to slay an unarmed man in cold blood." For a moment I considered his words, thinking that they held some merit, but then I cleared my thoughts of his influence.

"You are no better than a rabid dog and should be treated as such." My voice rose in anger. "How dare you speak to my wife in that manner? How dare you lay your hands upon her?"

"She was mine before she even knew of your existence, Lord Steward. How could you wed her when she already belonged to another?" Doubt filled me for a moment, but when I looked at Éowyn's face, seeing the fear in her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks, I knew that none of his words held a shred of truth, and, indeed, he was attempting to weave a spell around me with his voice as my wife had warned me he was capable.

"I should cut your throat for even thinking such!" I hissed.

"How would the Steward of Gondor explain away a cold-blooded killing in the wilds of Dor-en-Ernil? Your conscience will not allow you to cover your crime, will it?" He was attempting to overcome me with his words, and the lightheadedness returned. "Your will is no match for mine, Lord Steward." Before I could think, there was a dagger in his hand, and then everything happened at once.

* * *

Wormtongue did not kiss me. Dimly, I realized that we were not alone, and when Grima turned away from me, I saw Faramir standing there in his shirt sleeves, the expression upon his pale face wild yet weary. I could not force my tongue to form the words to warn him away from us, as I stood there uselessly, knowing that Grima might slaughter my husband before my eyes at any moment.

The buzzing in my head made it nearly impossible to hear the words that were exchanged between them, but I could see Faramir plainly as he drew his sword, and his emotions wavered between outrage and doubt. Grima was trying to ensorcel my husband with his words, but Faramir was fighting him, and when he looked to me, I tried desperately to speak, but my voice was frozen.

When his eyes flicked back to Grima, he was wroth again, but when Wormtongue spoke, I thought that Faramir might collapse as the blood fled his face. As the spell tightened around him, I was amazed to find that the one around me seemed to loosen. Then I saw the dagger appear in the worm's hand.

"Faramir!" I cried, my tongue at last loosened as Grima flung the blade toward my husband. My hand found my sword at my waist, and I drew it instantly, even as I saw the dagger embed itself in Faramir's side as he turned himself too late to dodge the weapon. Miraculously, he kept his feet, his face a mask of rage and pain, and with a growl, he lunged forward embedding his blade in Grima's gut, even as I ran the evil worm through from behind.

Wormtongue stiffened, gasped and then choked as our blades were withdrawn, but even as he slumped to the ground, I was already next to my husband, supporting him against my side. I glanced down at Grima, who lay bleeding in the snow. His mouth was working, though I could hear no words. I prayed that he could yet hear mine. "I hope that my uncle and my cousin are waiting for you just beyond the veil, worm. I am certain that they would like to speak with you about your abominable behavior during these past few years." With a shudder, his eyes closed for the last time, and I silently rejoiced to be free of him finally.

Faramir was shivering with cold as he looked down at me in the growing gloom, a strength in his gaze that belied his physical state. He said naught as I carefully led him back to our tent to tend to his wounds and then tell him everything about my past.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: At last we reach the end! (I'm sad.) Thanks to everyone who left a review. I was very pleased by the enthusiastic response that New Memories received, and I hope that very soon Faramir will gift me with another story that you all can enjoy just as much! Thank you.

* * *

The next morning dawned cold and snowy, and I rose and dressed myself quietly so I would not disturb my wife, who I think had slept very little as I had often felt her gentle hands upon me, checking my brow for any sign of fever and my wounds for bleeding throughout the night. The dagger wound had bled copiously and was painful but not life-threatening, though I allowed Éowyn to fuss over me if only to give her something to do to help to take her mind off of the other horrific events of the day.

As she had tended me, she at last spoken to me quietly, revealing with some difficulty the details of her terrifying relationship with Grima Wormtongue. It was not surprising that she had not spoken of him sooner when I heard how he had haunted her every movement from the moment he had first gained entry to Meduseld. Apparently, and with good reason, he was someone that she heartily wished to forget, and I had decided to rise before she did so I might help her achieve her goal that much sooner.

Emerging from the tent opening into the biting cold, I found Grima's body laying stiffly beneath a blanket of new fallen snow, and I set about building a cairn over him where he lay, since the ground was too cold to dig, and there wasn't enough dry fuel to start a large enough fire to burn a corpse into ash. It was hard work, but I welcomed it, glad to be able to help lay to rest Éowyn's only fear, so to speak. Though I worked quietly, the only sound being the occasional thud of a stone as I lay it atop the pile, my wife soon joined me and silently began to help me in my task. It was not long before the cairn was completed, and I wondered aloud if I should say a few words over the man.

"No, Faramir. This man is not worthy of your words. Nor would I have his grave marked, for no person in this world would ever feel sadness that they know not whatever became of him, no one would grieve his passing, and I would not bother any who pass here with the dreary detail of where he lies."

I nodded, deferring to her wishes, and then we reentered the tent to partake of a cold breakfast, ready to move from this place as soon as possible despite the poor weather. After we broke our fast, Éowyn insisted on checking my wounds once more before we once again left the tent, she, to saddle our mounts, and I, to collapse the tent and load Seregon's pack upon his back.

Though Éowyn did not look back as we rode away, I could not help but to take one last backward glance, noting that the campsite, the cairn, all were quickly being covered by a blanket of smooth, pristine snow, the only signs of our passage being our own tracks as we left it all behind.

* * *

Before we had even reached Dol Amroth, I noticed a change in the air, a different scent, a different feel. It was sunny and warmer here, and there was no snow, even upon the ground. Faramir, smiling in anticipation, rode ahead of me a short way upon the road, stopping when he came to the summit of the next hill. He turned Simbelmynë to face me, and then he waited patiently for me to come to him. I did not hurry Windfola, if anything, I walked him even slower, savoring this moment as I enjoyed watching the delight upon my husband's face as he watched me.

Finally cresting the hill, I was rendered speechless by the sight before me. The city of Dol Amroth was upon the right, but completely surrounding it and up and down the western edge of all of the land was the vastest expanse of blue-grey water that I had ever seen. The sea was larger than I could ever have imagined.

"Oh, Faramir! It is so beautiful!" I exclaimed. When I looked back to him, he was smiling broadly at me. "And it is the same color as your eyes, my love!" He blushed at that.

He gestured at the broad sweep of land that lay below us. "Éowyn, this is the land of my mother, and I want you to breathe your fill of the air, view all that you can bear to look upon, take your ease upon the broad strip of sand that edges the churning sea, but above all, I want you to be happy here, as I have always been."

"I think that shall not be difficult, my lord." I gazed over the water some more. "It is so large!"

"Ah, but there is more that just its size! There is the sound of it, the scent of it. To watch the waves crash upon the shore is to see true magic at work. Are you ready to go on?"

"Almost," I murmured, drawing Windfola closer to Simbelmynë. The sea was indeed beautiful, but even it could not compare with the beauty of the sheer happiness that I spied upon my love's face. I wished for this moment never to end as I drank him in with my eyes, memorizing every angle of his face, every sparkle within his eyes, every curve of his lush mouth as his smile faded for a moment and then returned full strength. And then, when I had committed the wondrous view to memory, I leaned in and kissed him gently to fix the happy memory firmly in my mind.

"Race you to the castle," I said with an impish grin, and before he was thinking lucidly again, I was halfway down the hill dragging poor Seregon along behind me, my husband's laughter ringing in my ears.

END


End file.
